


if you're afraid of falling then don't look down

by orphan_account



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 12:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21208868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: RK900 feels his own laughter pulling at his lips, bubbling out of his mouth and rolling against the air.He feels so odd, wild, out-of-control. Here on the sidewalk at midnight, standing in the lights of the club, in this clothing that was meant to be a disguise but feels so good against his skin. So out of character for him. It’s tight, revealing, and he feels drunk on the way Gavin’s eyes linger. He wants a taste of Gavin’s cigarette. He wants to press their lips together and taste the nicotine in Gavin’s mouth.





	if you're afraid of falling then don't look down

The world is spinning. It seems almost blurry even through RK900’s enhanced visual sensors. It’s raining, soaking his jacket, soaking his synthetic hair and sliding off his synthetic skin. Gunshots ring in his ears. The splatter of blood, both red and blue, is vivid against the concrete, illuminated by the purple light that pours out of the Eden Club. Some of the blood is his, from his damaged shoulder, but it’s of little concern. The skin is smoothing over and the components can be replaced later.

Gavin Reed stands a few feet away; t-shirt and jeans plastered tightly to his body. He’s got a gun in one hand, because he hadn’t brought his holster and his jacket has disappeared to who-knows-where, and he’s fumbling with a cigarette and lighter in the other hand.

He’s laughing.

RK900 feels his own laughter pulling at his lips, bubbling out of his mouth and rolling against the air.

He feels so odd, wild, out-of-control. Here on the sidewalk at midnight, standing in the lights of the club, in this clothing that was meant to be a disguise but feels so good against his skin. So out of character for him. It’s tight, revealing, and he feels drunk on the way Gavin’s eyes linger. He wants a taste of Gavin’s cigarette. He wants to press their lips together and taste the nicotine in Gavin’s mouth. He _wants._ So badly. It’s all kinds of screwed-up, that it feels perfect _now_ of all times, but he isn’t sure he cares.

“Jesus Christ, you two need a visit to the nuthouse,” is unsurprisingly Lieutenant Hank Anderson’s first comment when he arrives a moment later. Connor the RK800 is trailing behind him and reserves any judgement he has on the matter, but he is no doubt just as confused to find them in fits of laughter with a dead man laying mere meters away. It’s sickening, or it should be.

“Go shit on someone else’s parade, Anderson,” Gavin says, smirking like he couldn’t care less. He tosses Hank his gun, and drops his half-smoked cigarette, grinding it into the ground with the heel of his shoe. He turns to RK900, grabbing his wrist – and it feels so intimate, Gavin’s thumb rubbing circles above where RK900’s pulse be if he were human – and then he’s pulling RK900 away from the whole scene, without a clear destination, stumbling along like he’s intoxicated but the clearness in his eyes says he isn’t, the grin on his face when he looks at RK900 says he knows exactly what the hell he’s doing to the both of them.

And RK900 is powerless to stop him. He doesn’t want to, even with his own blood staining his clothes, with the gunshot residue on Gavin’s hands. This fits them, this violence and this pain and this darkness. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

They stumble along together, hands still intertwined tightly, and RK900 doesn’t want to think about anything but the present moment so to hell with the consequences.

Gavin stops abruptly, and he looks at RK900, staring at his mouth. RK900 can’t control the shiver of anticipation that runs up his spine, a full-body movement that he has not a hope of controlling. His programming is useless here. All he can do is wait, and shiver, and hope above all else that Gavin knows what the hell they’re doing, because RK900 is new to all of this and he hasn’t got the slightest idea.

Gavin steps closer, and he’s grasping RK900 by the shoulders, then sliding one hand up to cup his cheek, trace a thumb over RK900’s lips. He presses even closer, crowding RK900 up against a wall. 

“I’m gonna kiss you,” Gavin says.

“Okay,” RK900 whispers, and anything else he might have said is lost when they collide. It’s not just kissing so much fighting, biting and bruising each other with their intensity. Gavin’s hands are everywhere, trailing up and down RK900’s body, leaving burning sparks of desire wherever they touch. It’s overwhelming, but in the best way. It’s so much that he wasn’t sure they could have.

“God, you’re perfect,” Gavin mumbles, and he snorts and says, “Guess you were made that way. Too bad CyberLife couldn’t make you less of an asshole, not enough to stick after deviancy.”

There’s no bite in his words. His touch is unbearably gentle, and that’s not what RK900 wants at all. He wants rough. He wants real.

RK900 surges forward, kissing Gavin again, and his hands wander lower, slipping under Gavin’s shirt to feel his skin, the taut muscles that shove RK900 back against the wall. He shouldn’t enjoy that but he does, he likes that Gavin can handle him, that they’re equals in this as much as anything. He tries to get closer and Gavin presses him back again, scattering kisses on his neck, under his ear, the edge of his jaw. His skin feels searing-hot.

“Gavin,” he gasps out, sensors aflame, and then all points of contact are gone.

Gavin’s wry smile is barely visible as he puts some distance between them. His face is dark, body backlit by a single streetlamp behind him. He’s so beautiful and so strong and so _everything._

RK900 is panting, even though he’s an android and doesn’t need oxygen.

“Let’s slow things down a bit, tin can,” Gavin says, but he’s leaning forward and touching RK900 again, running his hands through the pristine hairstyle that always seems to annoy him. It’s mussed now and normally that would bother RK900, but he arches into the touch, every part of him aching at the thought of pulling away. He closes his eyes instead, and Gavin makes a soft noise, brushing another kiss to RK900’s temple – next to his LED. That feels significant somehow; trembling with an emotion he can’t name, he tips his head forward onto Gavin’s shoulder, and they just breathe together for a little while. Breathe in the air - the cold air, because it’s Detroit and it’s winter, but there is no part of RK900’s body that is not warm. Gavin’s still holding him tightly, and now he’s prodding at the shoulder wound. RK900 lets him. It isn’t painful.

“I was fucking terrified,” Gavin admits, finally letting his hand fall. “When he had that gun on you, I just – fuck. I was so scared, and angry, and you looked so calm about it all. I didn’t think, I just – shot him. I know you can take care of yourself, and you could’ve talked him down, probably, but what if—what if he had—” he shakes his head. “Goddamnit, RK, it’s not the first time, and I don’t regret it, but I just _killed_ a guy.”

I just killed a guy _for you,_ goes unsaid.

“When did I start caring about a fuckin’ piece of plastic?” he mutters, but he doesn’t sound all that displeased about it. More resigned, than anything, and amused at his own foolishness. Because he is without a doubt foolish.

RK900 feels the ridiculous urge to start laughing again.

They are both foolish, to have dared to care for someone who is as much of a wreck as they each themselves are, and it will destroy them. They will fight and they will shout and they will hurt each other very badly, and maybe even hate each other a little bit. They’ll come crawling back and they’ll make up, hearts aching, until one day they don’t make up. One day they will be too broken to fix. RK900 has never had a broken heart, but he knows it is inevitable if they pursue this relationship. They are not kind people, he and Gavin, they are hard and rough and sharp edges, and in no preconstruction of events does he see this ending well. But maybe it's still worth it to take the leap, because falling feels like flying for those few precious seconds before you hit the ground.

It’s enough, RK900 thinks. He is falling prey to the folly of Icarus, but the sun is too bright for him to ignore. Gavin is too bright and RK900's wings will melt.

“You’re spacing out. You with me?” Gavin asks, sliding his hands down to settle firmly at RK900’s waist.

RK900 nudges their noses together, enjoying Gavin’s surprised chuckle, and smiles.

“I am with you,” he says.

It sounds like a promise.

**Author's Note:**

> the title is from "Walking the Wire" by Imagine Dragons.


End file.
